The Wayfarers by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER XXI
WE REAP THE FRUITS OF OUR AUDACITY
The whimsical plan fixed in our minds, we began at once to conceive akeener rest for our affairs. Notwithstanding the urgency of ourtravelling, we had not exchanged the Duke's horses at any of theposting-houses we had passed. Poverty had taught us a fine economicprudence. Whatever we might gain in speed we should lose in momentaryvalue, for his Grace's animals were an admirable pair, on which thebest part of our fortune depended at Bristol. The continuous strainwas already telling on them, however, and they flagged a good dealduring the day.
The evening had already come when we approached our destination. Amongthe country lanes in the twilight it called for all Cynthia's intimateknowledge of the neighbourhood to enable us to pursue the direct pathto her father's house. The moon was showing over the trees, and wewere within a mile of the place, according to madam's account, when wewere startled by a disconcerting incident. A sudden clatter of horses'hoofs arose in the lane. From whence they came we could not tell; butbefore we had time to think much about them, a horseman was ridingbeside us, with a particularly sinister-looking pistol presented at ourfaces.
My poor little madam nestled to me in a great deal of terror; but formy own part I must confess that I was more annoyed than daunted by suchan unwarrantable intrusion.
"My dear fellow," I protested, "you are but wasting your time; and youare wasting ours too, which just now I am inclined to think is the morevaluable. We have not a guinea in the world. Had we one we should beonly too happy to present it to you."
The highwayman laughed in a familiar voice.
"Why," says he, putting a pair of mischievous eyes into the chaise, "isit not my friend, Lord What's-his-name?"
"My love," says I to the trembling Cynthia, "here is your papa."
"Of course," says the highwayman, "you mean the Duke of Thing-em-bob."
"To be sure I do," says I. "We are very well met, I think."
By this our chaise had stopped, and Mr. Sadler had pulled his horse uptoo. I was not at all displeased by this interruption, for in anycircumstances the sight of this merry, cheerful fellow was welcome. Hewas one of those rare persons whose voice alone had the power to charm.He was a genial rogue indeed; an engaging spirit whom to meet was toask to dinner. We were already the better for his society.
Therefore, as we had but a mile to go to the Duke's house--Hurley Placewas the name of it--I proposed that we should carry him along with us,and enjoy his company at dinner. Mr. Sadler was nothing loth.
Wherefore it fell out that the Lady Cynthia returned to her ancestralhome in the company of a notorious highwayman, and a bankrupt, adiscredited peer. What a suppressed excitement there was to be surewhen we drove up to the door, and it became known among the servantsthat the Lady Cynthia had returned of her own free will! More than oneaged servitor, who had grown old in the service of the Duke, was soaffected by the erring child's return that he shed a silent tear.Inquiry elicited the fact that there was no reason to expect our papaat present: and that not a word had been heard of his Grace since hehad left the house in pursuit of his naughty daughter.
Nothing could have been more delightful than the sensations weexperienced on our brief re-entry into civilization. What luxuries inthe matter of washing, shaving, and polishing generally were we able toenjoy after the discomforts of our itinerary!
Cynthia had her own maid to dress her; Mr. Sadler was provided with avalet of the Duke's, and another man was found for me. Orders weregiven to the butler that the best dinner for three persons the cookcould devise was to be served in an hour, and in the meantime wearrayed ourselves in our choicest garments to do justice to it. It wasthe last evening of luxury we were likely to spend; and we weredetermined that we would neglect no opportunity of making the most ofit.
The contents of Mr. Waring's valise were a material assistance to mywardrobe, and for that matter to Mr. Sadler's too. His silk stockingsand breeches, brocaded vests, and laced coats, served us admirably. Wetook advantage of them, chiefly, I think, for the laudable reason thatwe might do the more honour to Cynthia and the dinner. And I at leastam free to confess that the sensation of having once again clean smartclothes upon my person gave a wonderful impetus to my self-esteem. Ifelt that I could look the world in the face once more, and that I wasagain my own man. I never was a scoffer at the virtues of fineclothes, and distrust him that is. So long as one is sure of one'stailor, one's soul may take care of itself. The grace of a good coatis communicated to the wearer.
Although Mr. Sadler and I were attired as near the first fashion as ourborrowed plumes would permit, we were as nothing to Mrs. Cynthia. Whenshe joined us in the room where the dinner was laid, my friend, thehighwayman, _blase_ as he was, could not repress his admiration. Shedid indeed appear to perfection not only in the cunning of her gown,but in the sparkling animation of her face, her lively colour, and themocking intrepidity lurking in her eyes.
Her mood was a match for the occasion. She clearly recognized theextravagant whimsicality of sitting down to dinner in such company, atsuch a season, and in such a place. It was a piece of mad folly, ofcynical bravado; and she took her seat at the table with an air ofreckless mischief that was wholly adorable. She played the game.To-morrow we must leave our native land for ever, but that night wecontrived to forget everything--our perilous situation, our destitutionand our desperate case, in quips and jests, good wine and boisterouslaughter.
Mr. Sadler afterwards, very deservedly I do not doubt, came to behanged. But it was sound judgment in me to invite him to our lastdinner. What a fine merry rogue he was, to be sure! What an instincthe betrayed for goodfellowship! He came to be hanged, it is true, butthat night his laugh rang the loudest and frankest, his jests had thekeenest edge, and it was from his eyes that the most whole-heartedhumour beaconed. He was as merry a rascal as any with whom I ever hadthe honour to drain a glass. But he was a man of true breeding too, sothat he neither embarrassed Mrs. Cynthia as a highwayman less of agentleman doubtless would have done in such singular circumstances; nordid he once arouse anger or jealousy in me.
"To your eyes, your ladyship, and to your lordship's nose," so far fromprovoking offence, became a source of mirth from the frank jovial toneswith which it was uttered, and the inimitable gestures by which it wasaccompanied. For his own part, Mr. Sadler admitted that this meetingwas highly piquant to him, since on a former occasion he had solemnlywritten us down in his own mind as a pair of cheats and impostors. Itstruck him as an entirely remarkable circumstance that after all weshould prove to be the very persons we had purported to be; and as oneno less so, that he should ever have presumed us to be otherwise. Butas I pointed out to him, after all, his error was not so surprising.The judgment of the world is at the mercy of the obvious. It prefersto appraise a picture by its frame. Were it otherwise, our verytitles, and material distinctions of that kind, would cease to have ameaning.
Oblivious of everything, we continued to cat and drink, and be of goodcheer. In the audacity of our mood neither Cynthia nor I gave athought to our pursuers. We did not consider that we were in the houseof the enemy, and that it could be by no means unexpected that weshould be surprised at any hour. And I am not sure that we wereprepared greatly to care should aught so untoward happen. By this Ibelieve we were utterly desperate. A reaction had come upon us. We,who had been so excessively solicitous for the well-being of our skinsand the preservation of our perfect liberty, were at this moment unableto muster much interest in these matters. We were in a warm room, in acongenial society, snug, well fed, and mighty well content. No twopersons could have been in a happier case in which to confront theworst. Let the devil walk in if he chose. For once we were in acondition to beard him. Our cheeks burnt; our eyes shone; our heartswere overflowing and generous.
Such was the state of our minds, when without a solitary note ofwarning, and as a wholly natural consequence, the devil walked in. Inthe very height of
I suppose their sudden unheralded appearance was to us in the nature ofa thunderbolt. Yet after all it was so little unexpected as not toastonish us. And, speaking for myself, now that I was fairly cornered,my last card played, the old recklessness returned, and instead offaltering before this outraged old gentleman, I rose, bowed, andgreeted him with the completest self possession. And as I did so,whether by virtue of the noble wine of his Grace's cellar, or asprobably by an ecstasy of desperation, I conceived a kind of joy of ourmeeting.
Between his alternate gobblings and hoppings and gaspings for breath,the old gentleman must have come perilously close to his inevitableapoplexy. At first in his inarticulate fury he could neither speak noract; and I found myself awaiting his good pleasure quite a long time,with a smile of greeting on my lips, and my hand on my heart.